


Family

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:24:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: The Reader has given up on life, tormented by the memories of watching her family die and struggling with the isolation that her inability to speak has brought upon her.  When Daryl Dixon finds her one night, ready to end it all, he must prove to her that someone understands what it is that she’s going through, and that she still has a family if only she’d let herself believe it.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request from @xxchloegrayxx on Tumblr. 
> 
> ‘Hey could you do one where you never talk to anyone. Your always bring food back to the group or go on runs by yourself and bring stuff back (risking your life doing so) then you go back home and lock yourself in there because you feel suicidal and useless. Everyone tries to figure you out but the only one who could is Daryl and he saves you from killing yourself?’

‘What the hell d'ya think yer doin’?’  The growl of Daryl’s voice snapped you out of your trance, and you raised your head to gape at him where he stood in the doorway, a look of horror painting his features.  He dropped to his knees beside you where you sat on the floor, your back pressed to the wall, a loaded pistol clutched white-knuckle tight in your hand, frozen in mid-air, half lowered from where it had been pressed against your temple.  'Y/N, what is this?’

You shook your head, your lip quivering, your face blotchy with tears as they streamed down your cheeks.  Your whole body trembled with fear, and misery, and anger, and you cursed Daryl silently for interrupting you in your final task.  You knew it was time to go.  It had been time for a while.  You just couldn’t live like this anymore.

 

* * *

 

_12 weeks ago…_

'She doesn’t speak at all?’ you heard the short, hard-faced woman whose office you’d been beckoned into, ask Aaron, the curly-haired, kind-hearted stranger who’d found you collapsed at the side of the road just a few hours earlier and brought you back with him to Alexandria.  You didn’t know how long you’d been sprawled there, couldn’t remember at what point you’d given up, decided that it just wasn’t worth the effort it took to survive anymore, but you knew you’d been cold, despite the sun that had reddened your skin.  It was an icy all-pervading chill that had taken root in your bones and spread outwards until you couldn’t feel anything at all, and when Aaron had approached you with a softly spoken introduction, you’d half-expected him to sink his teeth into you, it had been that long since you’d seen another living human.

'No,’ you heard Aaron reply.  'Hasn’t said a word since I found her.  The poor thing looks like she’s on her last legs.  She can’t have eaten properly in weeks.’  

'Give me a half hour with her, then come back and take her to Olivia,’ the woman instructed.  'She’ll get her stocked up.’

Aaron must have left then, because you heard the door click shut, and she rounded the back of your chair and took a seat opposite you.

'Do you have a name?’ she asked, an edge to her voice that you didn’t quite understand.  You hadn’t asked to be brought here, and you weren’t asking for anything.  Perhaps human kindness truly didn’t exist anymore.  Partially intending to aggravate her, you simply nodded.  'Well, so do I.  I’m Deanna.  And you are?’

You shrugged at her, and listened to her huff in irritation.  'Okay.  This is Alexandria.  My husband has played a big part in building this place, and I play a big part in running it.  You can be safe here, but you’ll be expected to contribute, do you understand?’  

Again, you nodded, and she sighed.  'Alright, well, usually this is the part where I would set up a video camera and ask you about your background and your skills, but I guess there’s not a lot of point in that, is there?  The jobs for a mute round here are pretty limited, I have to say.’

You could sense her discomfort, knew that her abrupt tone wasn’t intended to be rude.  She was just unsure how to handle you.  In all honesty, you were unsure how to handle yourself.  You didn’t know when you’d lost the ability to speak.  It had been such a long time since you’d seen another living person, that it hadn’t been something you needed to do until now.  When you’d opened your mouth to speak to Aaron and no sound had come out, you’d been scared, but the numbness had damped down that emotion and any desire you might have had to keep trying to communicate.  What was the point in talking to people anyway, in getting to know them?  They all just died in the end.

As a method of compromise, you pushed yourself up out of your chair, pausing for a moment when the room span alarmingly, and made your way slowly over to the desk that sat in front of the window.  As you’d expected, you found a pad of paper and a pencil, which you picked up, shakily writing one word which you offered over to Deanna:   _Y/N_.

 

* * *

 

You felt calloused fingers wrapping round yours, prising them open until you released the gun and let Daryl take it from you.  You couldn’t look at his face, couldn’t take the judgement that you were sure you’d see in his eyes.  Instead, you picked a spot on the floor and focused on it, trying to drown out his words by shouting inside your head, but it didn’t work, and you found yourself listening anyway, your choking sobs tailing off as his deep southern drawl calmed you.

'Hey, I can tell yer’ve been through somethin’.  Hell, we’ve all been through somethin’, an’ it’s damn hard livin’ inside these walls and tryna make nice with a bunch of folks who ain’t never even seen a walker, let alone watched someone become one or driven a knife through their skull.  I get it.  Hell, I ain’t gonna pretend to know what it is yer goin’ through, but this…’ He gestured to the gun that lay on the floor beside him.  'This ain’t the answer.’

 

* * *

 

_10 weeks ago…_

A knock sounded at your door, and you shrunk down beside the couch, hiding yourself below the window in case your visitor should wander along the porch and peer in.  They knew you were home, you were always home, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to listen to another vapid neighbour rambling on, though you hated yourself for judging these people.  They were perfectly pleasant, kind and welcoming, but most of them had lived within these walls since the world had gone to hell, and they were irritating in their ignorance as they worried over a lack of decent kitchen equipment and issued invitations to dinner parties and drinks evenings.  A part of you hated them for their naivety but a much larger part envied them for it.  If you hadn’t seen the things you’d seen, lost all that you’d lost, maybe you too could care about those unimportant issues, clink glasses with them and smile at their inane chatter.  But you’d seen too much, lost too much, and so you shut yourself away from them, only leaving your house to go and top up on supplies.  You’d been quartered alone, for which you were truly grateful, though you knew it was more for the sanity of your hypothetical housemate than anything else.  Something interesting you’d relearned about people since you’d set up home in Alexandria: they hated silence.

Another rap against the wooden door made you flinch, and you tucked yourself even tighter into the wall, the cool surface bringing goosebumps to your bare arms.  You tried to guess who it might be, but it could be any one of a number of people: Aaron and Eric inviting you over for spaghetti; Deanna trying to figure out what your job assignment should be, always asking questions as if checking to see if you were fixed yet; Spencer hitting on you, his eyes invasive as they roamed over your body; or any one of your other neighbours just wanting to shoot the breeze and pass the time of day. You just couldn’t do it anymore.

'Y/N, you in there?’  Spencer’s voice came from outside the window and you held your breath, praying for him to go away as you tracked his heavy footsteps  across the porch and back towards the front door.  You heard the creak of the handle being tried, and cursed yourself as you realised too late that it was unlocked.  He stepped into the house, and you squeezed your eyes shut, putting your faith in the childish belief that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you, but his footsteps were coming closer, and a shadow was falling over you.  A gentle touch on your arm forced you to look up into his face as he bent over you, his expression one of concern, though you saw his eyes drift down to your cleavage before meeting your gaze again.

'What are you doing down there?’  He dropped down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and trying to pull you against him though you held yourself rigid in resistance.  'Look, if you need to talk to someone…’  

You glared at him, and he chuckled, shaking his head.  'Sorry, wrong choice of words.  Okay, if you need to lean on someone, I’m here for you.  I understand what it is that you’re going through.  I went through some pretty dark days when I was a teenager, but, well, I got through them and I know you will too.’

If you’d had a voice you’d have screamed at him then.  How dare he compare his adolescent angst to the grief and terror that haunted you?  How could his tendency toward teenage melodrama possibly contend with seeing your whole family ripped to shreds before your eyes whilst you stood by, powerless to stop it?  How did painting himself as a loner, an outcast, qualify him to understand the all-consuming guilt that you’d survived, and the mind-numbing horror of being alone, without food or water, knowing that the woods were filled with the undead?  Everybody tried to impress on you how much they felt for you, how they could relate to you because they’d lost people in the past.  It wasn’t the same.  They would never understand the pain that shot through your heart as you’d watched your little neice have her limbs ripped from her body, they’d never had to hear the screams, smell the tang of blood and death in the air.

You recoiled from Spencer, pulling away and climbing to your feet, staring him down until he shifted uncomfortably.  'You want me to go?’

You nodded towards the door, and he finally got the message, levering himself upwards with a sulky pout painted over his pretty face.  'You know, all anyone here has done is try to help you,’ he snapped as he left.  'You might wanna try making a bit more of an effort.’

 

* * *

 

Daryl had swivelled round to sit beside you, leaning back against the wall, his hand creeping over to rest on yours though he made no move to grasp it or lace your fingers together.  When you shot him a quick glance out of the corner of your eye, he too was staring over at the wall opposite, his brow furrowed as he continued to talk.

'Yer’ve lost someone, right?  Or maybe a lot o’ someones?  I bet ya can still see it every night, every time ya close yer eyes.  I bet ya still hear 'em screamin’ out for help.  I know I do.  Not long after this all started, we lost people.  Had a camp near Atlanta, in some quarry the other side o’ the woods, an’ they came outta the trees.  Goddamn, I was a cold-hearted son of a bitch, burnin’ the bodies, doin’ what had t’ be done, but I felt 'em, e'ry last one of 'em.  We’ve lost others since, a lot of good people, but… those were the first an’ I can still see their faces.’

 

* * *

 

_8 weeks ago…_

The crunch of twigs snapping behind you had you whirling round with your knife raised, just in time as the corpse lunged at you from out of the bushes.  You missed your target though, toppling backwards with the walker on top of you, snapping its jaws millimetres from your face.  The stench of rotting flesh made your stomach lurch as you wrestled with the ravenous creature, finally getting the upper hand and driving your knife into its skull.  You pushed the body off of you with a squelching noise that made you gag and struggled to your feet, wiping sweat from your brow.

Scanning the trees to make sure it had been alone, you reached down for the strung up rabbits that you’d been carrying, slinging them over your shoulder, before retrieving your gun too.  You’d taken to coming out into the forest to hunt everyday, driven by a need to feel like you were earning your place in Alexandria, to feel useful, though you still felt as though it wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t a skill you’d possessed before, but you were slowly teaching yourself and, although your aim with a rifle was still a little dodgy, the traps that you’d started to set were proving successful.  Besides, hunting gave you an excuse to get outside of the fences for a few hours, enjoy the peace and solitude of the woodland, without having to worry about anyone hammering your door down to check on you or fill you in on another tidbit of mindless gossip.  Yeah, sure, you were risking your life, but at this point you didn’t much care.  You weren’t sure you wanted to live anymore anyway.

As the sky started to darken, the evening drawing in, you hastened back towards the gates of home.  Once there you’d hand your catches over to Olivia to divvy up, rarely keeping anything for yourself, and then scurry back to your house, shutting yourself away again.

 

* * *

 

'There was this kid in our group, this sweet lil girl, Carol’s daughter.’  Daryl’s voice was soft as he spoke to you, his distinctive growl mellowed into a gravelly hum.  'Sophia, her name was.  We lost track of 'er in the middle of a herd passin’ through.  I went out searchin’ for that kid e'ryday for weeks.  Round 'bout that time, Carl got shot too, y'know, Rick’s boy.  Thought he as a goner for a while but we ended up at this farm where they patched 'im up.  Turned out they was keepin’ walkers in the barn.  The old boy, Hershel, he thought they’d find a cure, so he didn’t wan’ kill any of 'em.  Turned out lil Sophia had been in there all along.  She’d been bit, died, come back.  Carol, well, the way she’s dealt with it all, she’s one hell of a lady, I can tell ya.  She’s proof that things can get better, y'know.  The pain, it don’t go away, but you find a way t’ live with it.’

You teared up again at the mention of the little girl, images of Lucy, your beautiful niece, flooding into your brain.  You were her aunt, it was your job to protect her, but what could you have done?  The thought of sweet, thoughtful Carol losing her own child cut deep in to your heart, and you searched your memory for any indication that she was teetering on the edge like you were, but you couldn’t find one.  Daryl was right, she was one hell of a lady.  You envied her strength.  You wanted to want to live, you just didn’t know how.

 

* * *

 

_6 weeks ago…_

You watched as the group made their way along the street, moving as if they were in a formation of some kind, ready to defend themselves despite their dishevelled state.  There were a lot of them, and they all bore the dirty skin and gaunt faces of people that had been on the road for a long time.  New people turned up at Alexandria fairly regularly, but there was something about these ones.  They looked different, their haunted stares burning into you as they passed you, their stances tense and uncomfortable instead of relaxed and relieved as with most of the newcomers.  They reminded you of yourself, six weeks earlier, though they were whispering to each other quietly as they surveyed the neighborhood.

You watched as Deanna led one of them, a man with greasy curls and a bushy beard that obscured most of his face, into her office, as the others gathered outside, some sinking to the floor, exhausted, though they kept their weapons close.  You knew they’d be forced to part with their guns after Deanna had accepted them in to the community, and you could only imagine how that would go down.  A  broad-shouldered man, with dark hair that fell into his face in unruly waves, caught your eye and he fixed you with an icy glare as he reached into his pocket and lit up a cigarette.

'People are lookin’ at us like we’re in a fuckin’ zoo,’ he growled, his voice deep and menacing.  'Bet half o’ these folk ain’t even been outside the fences since the dead started walkin’.’

He was shushed by one of the women in the group, but he continued to glower at passersby, puffing on his smoke as he dropped to sit on the steps that led up to Deanna’s porch.  'I ain’t doin’ no stupid interview neither.  What’s there to say?  We were out there, we survived, now we’re here.  I ain’t tellin’ her my life story in the hope she’ll throw us a damn welcome party.’

You found yourself smiling at him, amused by the brusque way that he verbalised the exact thoughts you’d had as Deanna had led you into the house.  'I bet ya somewhere in one o’ these houses someone’s making a fuckin’ potroast, like the world didn’t go to hell.  S'a fuckin’ joke.’

 

* * *

 

Daryl was still talking softly to you, and you’d caved, leaning your head tentatively against his shoulder, craving physical contact as you cried.  He didn’t react, didn’t move to pull you closer or flinch to shrug you off, he just kept talking and you thought it might be the most he’d ever spoken.

'Then there was this old boy, Dale.  He was a pain in the ass, don’t get me wrong, but he had a good heart.  He was jus’ tryna keep us all on the right path, tryna save our souls or some shit.  He had his guts torn out o’ him by a walker.  Weren’t nothin’ no-one could do about it.  He was hurtin’ bad, writhin’ and groanin’.  I can still hear 'im now when it gets real quiet at night.  Rick pulled his gun on 'im to put the poor guy out of his misery, but he couldn’ do it.  He was soft back then, ol’ Rick.  He’s changed a lot in the time I’ve known 'im.  So I stepped up, an’ I did it.  An’ I know that he was gon’ die anyway, y'know, I know that deep down, but sometimes I still ask myself if there was a way he coulda made it, if maybe I just straight out killed 'im.  Guilt weighs heavier than grief sometimes, y'know what I’m talkin’ about?’

You nodded miserably and felt Daryl’s rough fingers curl around your hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

 

* * *

 

_4 weeks ago…_

You were making your way to the gate to slip out into the woods, eager to get started on your hunt and free yourself from the fences, when a heavy footfall fell into step beside you and you glanced up to see Daryl studying you intently.

'They told me ya hunt, that right?’

You nodded.

'They said you don’t talk none though.’

You shook your head, and a crooked grin lit up his face.  'I think we’re gon’ get along just fine then.’

He followed you into the trees, his eyes scanning the ground for tracks, and you soon fell into a comfortable silence, each straining to hear the movement of animals through the undergrowth.  Unlike you, it seemed Daryl was an experienced hunter, and he picked up on little signs of life that you would never have seen in a million years.  You watched his movements, searching to see what he saw, and he noticed your attentions, pausing to explain to you in hushed tones exactly what he was looking for.  He showed you a better knot to use for your traps, though he nodded his approval at your success rate when six of the eight had a rabbit caught in their nooses.

'It’ll just kill 'em quicker if you do it this way,’ he advised.  'Kinder, that’s all.’

When a young buck wandered into your path, you both froze, before beginning to move slowly towards it, weapons raised.  As you started to circle to the right, Daryl’s hand snagged your arm to stop you, instead pulling you with him to the left, finding his spot and raising his bow, the arrow whistling through the air and finding its target.

You punched your fist in the air in the excitement of the moment, and were rewarded by another of his shy smiles.  'Sorry if I manhandled ya.’  

You shrugged at him as you both picked your way over to the fallen deer.

'Yer were gon’ move into the breeze.  He woulda caught yer scent and took off.’

It made so much sense and it was something that had never occurred to you.  You understood then why Daryl stayed so unkempt, obviously shunning the shower facilities in his own home, and staying grubby and grimey to keep his scent as natural as possible.  It wasn’t altogether unpleasant.  There was something raw and masculine about the musk that emanated from him, and you had to admit that you felt safer with him by your side.

'C'mon,’ he urged you, interrupting your thoughts.  'We’re gon’ lose the light before long.  Better get back.’

 

* * *

 

'I lost my brother.  He was a mean one, Merle was, but it still hurt to lose 'im.  He was the only fam'ly I had left, the only one I shared blood with anyway.  I’d already lost 'im once when Rick chained his sorry ass to a roof in the middle of the city and left 'im there.  The crazy bastard cut his own hand off to get free an’ I didn’t see 'im for months after that.  When I found 'im, he was part of a community that wanted to attack us, take the place we’d built a home in.  I almost left Rick an’ the others to go off with him, but I realised… fam'ly ain’t about blood anymore.  It’s about who you want at your side when things get tough.  I can tell ya now, when times get hard, I wan’ you by my side.  That means yer’ve got fam'ly here, alright?  So, don’t ever go feelin’ alone.’

You felt a thaw set in in your heart at his words, wondering how he seemed to know exactly what you needed to hear.  You cocked your head to one side, questioningly, and Daryl smirked.

'Wonderin’ what happened with Merle?    He did the right thing in the end, died a hero, tryna save us all.  By the time I got to 'im it was too late an’ he’d turned.  Had to put 'im down myself.’

You gasped, and his grip on your hand tightened.  'But I’m still here, I’m still fightin’.  Tha’s how I know that whatever it is yer’ve been through, you can get past it.’

 

* * *

 

_2 weeks ago…_

You’d fallen into a routine with Daryl, heading out with him most days to scour the forest for food, working in silence for the most part, broken only by the rasp of him showing you something, imparting more of his knowledge to you.  You’d learned so much in such a short space of time, and you couldn’t deny that you were forming an attachment to the archer, but when you stepped back inside the fences, you would go and shut yourself away, alone in your house, and he would head back to his group and the easy familiarity of the bond that they shared.  It was for the best, you reasoned.  Friendships, relationships, family ties, they were fleeting in this world.  One of you was sure to die, sooner or later, so what was the point?

Still, the loneliness was eating away at you, and each time that you stepped back inside and shut the door behind you, the black cloud descended a little further.  You could feel the numbness returning, and you knew Daryl had noticed as he wore a permanent scowl when you were hunting together, shooting you concerned glances which you pretended not to notice.  You reasoned that the numbness was better anyway, preferable to the exhaustion that dragged you down and made it nearly impossible to roll out of bed most mornings.  You needed rest, your body was crying out for it, but every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by horrific nightmares.  Every night, you watched your family die.  Sometimes you were even the one killing them, ripping their flesh away from their bones with your decaying fingers.  

You couldn’t do it anymore.  You just needed it all to stop.  The isolation, the memories, the terror and exhaustion…  It had to end.

 

* * *

 

'There were others too,’ Daryl exhaled loudly.  'Too many others.  It ain’t easy to live in this world, I get that, but ya can’t just give up.  Ya know what keeps me goin’?  My people out there, and you in here.  Ya gotta find something worth livin’ for, an’ ya gotta stop blamin’ yerself for whatever happened.  I know ya can’t talk about it.  Hell, this is the first time I’ve really talked 'bout any of it.  It’s hard to find the words.  But ya gotta try, Y/N, cos I ain’t lettin’ ya take the easy way out.’

You were overwhelmed with emotion at the simple fact that someone actually cared if you lived or died.  It had been long, long time since you’d had that.  You’d been so scared to tell anyone about your family, about the herd that had torn them apart whilst you watched from above, terrified that they’d deem you as guilty as you judged yourself to be, but Daryl had suffered so many losses, taken lives himself, and he was still standing.  You opened your mouth, forcing the sound out until you managed a hoarse whisper.  

'Thank you.’

His eyes lit up, his lips parting in shock, as you repeated the two words over and over.  

'Yer talkin’!’

You nodded, grinning even through the fresh wave of tears that spilled down your face.  

'Please, tell me y'ain’t gon’ try this again.  Please.  It’s bad enough losin’ someone to the corpses, but… I would never forgive myself if you did that rather than come to me.’

'I didn’t know I could come to you,’ you croaked.  'I thought I had no one.’

'Not anymore,’ he reassured you, resting his head against yours as you leaned back into his shoulder.  'I meant what I said.  Yer fam'ly now.’


End file.
